Beautiful Golden Butterfly
by Seven Positions
Summary: AU. “How can something so beautiful be so deadly?” He didn’t have time to consider his death before he broke through the thick, green surface of the stream. child abuse, schizophrenia, and many, many swears
1. themakoriver

Disclaimer: I already had this discussion with a certain lawyer. No Final Fantasy for me.

I don't think I have _many_ notes on this one; summary: Cloud is crazy and abused!; first ever AU story; I'm trying not to turn it into a yaoi romance, so it likely won't end up that way; rated for violence, swearing, and... severe sweetness?

* * *

After the first month in Midgar, Cloud had gotten used to the eerie glow of the mako rivers that coursed through the city. Gradually, he stopped pausing in his walk to and from school to stare with furrowed brows and curious blue eyes at the faraway greenish light. 

Today, however, he couldn't resist halting once more inside the metal tunnel-bridge over the Sector 7 Plate again to watch the streaming mako.

"_The Mako Rivers of Midgar are… inexplicable. It's said that they appeared about two-hundred years ago."_

Each of the four streams were surrounded by barbed fences, heralding danger with big yellow-and-black signs.

"_The substance is extremely poisonous. Exposure to the air around it causes a terrible lung disease, and falling into one of them is an almost guaranteed death."_

Cloud leaned forward into the glass, unable now to tear his eyes away. His breath fogged in front of him, and through the mist the shine of the mako spread and blurred. His lips formed soundless words-

"How can something so beautiful be so deadly?"

Suddenly, he was sent pitching forward, hitting his brow on the glass and grunting in shock and pain.

"Sorry, man."

He picked himself up and watched the offender walk away. Without looking back, he picked up his bag from its spot slumped on the ground and continued on his way home. He silently cursed Midgar and its _fucking _mako, feeling the slight bump on his forehead with delicate fingers. His skin was stained red.

* * *

Cloud stepped into the bathroom, finding the medicine cabinet in the darkness by the slight glint of the mirror. He tugged it open and felt around inside for the one bottle inside. It rattled when he brushed against it. He flicked on the lights. 

Two slim white pills slid into his palm. He narrowed his eyes at them, staring with a melancholy face at the perfectly shaped capsules, at the snowy powder that rested across his skin.

"_Schizophren---"_

"Only slightly," he reminded himself out loud, cutting off his former psychiatrist's voice.

The pills slid down the incline of his hand and into the cavern of his mouth.

* * *

A high-pitched, shrieking trill overcame his dreams, pulling him out forcefully. The dream gave way to the sound of raindrops pelting his window and the phone jangling away a foot from his hand. Glancing first at the clock, 

(_7:15 PM he'll be home in forty-five minutes)_

then at the caller ID, he whipped the whining contraption off of the cradle.

"Reno, what the hell do you want?" He couldn't contain the gummy texture of sleep from his growling voice, and his redheaded friend snickered down the line.

"Hey, buddy, me and Zack are heading over to Vinnie's house in a minute."

Zack called a greeting from the background, sounding distant but still full of energy.

"I'm bringing a case of beer—"

"Reno, you _know _you're the only one who drinks."

"That's why I'm only bringing one case."

Laughter erupted in static in the sleepy blonde's ear. He pulled the phone away, scowling.

"I don't know, Reno. I… I should be here when my dad gets home. Later."

There was a long, drawn-out sigh, malformed by the phone's technology and the faint static.

"Alright. See you then, Cloud."

Without waiting for a response, Reno hung up, and the sound of rain filled Cloud's ears.

* * *

"_Shit---_" 

The teenager slid down the wall past the fresh splatter of blood, twisting his face into a grimace so that only one tear-filled blue eye remained open.

Mr. Robert Strife loomed above him, darkened into a shadow by the cold, grey light from the window behind him. His face was grim and stony and sad, like a martyr's.

He jerked back suddenly, but was still unable to avoid the kick that send him flying sideways into the television stand. The side of his face struck the edge hard, splitting his forehead open.

As the blood ran, stinging his eyes and obscuring his vision, a curious feeling of detachment blanketed his mind. Instead of his father's snarling face, he saw a glowing, golden butterfly. It hovered in front of the blurry world of reality, gently flapping its wings and flitting about the room. He carefully followed its movements, slowly forgetting the pain of his father's rampage.

It wasn't until the man was finished, wiping foam from his lips and muttering, that the butterfly disappeared and he could hear the rain once more.

All at once, the pain overwhelmed him, and he lay gasping and bleeding and choking, spitting up his own blood.

Looking up, Cloud found that his assailant was already gone.

"Hey, Vinnie."

Vincent lifted his head from the wall to peer at Zack, not amused- even after all this time- by his nickname.

"Look outside."

A figure stumbled along in the world outside the window, blonde hair matted down with sweat and rain and something dark and sticky that couldn't completely be washed away.

"That's… Cloud," Vincent mumbled, pressing one hand against the glass.

Reno sat up from his position sprawled upside-down on the couch. "Cloud?" he asked grimly. Zack and Vincent watched him carefully, mildly surprised by the sudden change in demeanor. Moments before, the redhead had been singing in a drunken stupor, but now his piercing eyes scanned the outside—

"He's hurt. I _knew _this would happen."

* * *

Cloud chased after the figure as fast as his broken form would take him, hissing in anger and sobbing loudly above the roar of the heavy rain. 

Abruptly, the man stopped and whipped around, arms swinging lifelessly around his hips. A maniacal grin was plastered onto his thin face.

"I'm you," he said, his mouth stretching obscenely with every syllable. His voice came out in a harsh, pulsing manner, as if he were chuckling while he spoke.

"I'm your father.

"I'm your psychiatrist."

A laugh ripped apart the air, harsh and loud. Cloud cringed, scowling even harder at the man that taunted him.

"Shut the fuck up," he whispered, taking a step forward.

The man's body bobbed forward once, twice. On the third dip, he lunged forward, seizing Cloud by the collar. They tumbled to the ground.

As the teenager stared, alarmed and suddenly infuriated, his assailant's face began to change. He watched the leering, laughing face of the nameless man transform into his father's.

A loud crack sounded as his knuckles collided with the figure's jaw. The realness of the feeling of flesh against his fist, giving way until the bone was met and then broken, made him sob aloud, even as the weight fell off of his body.

The man that wore his father's face stood and began to run abruptly. Cloud choked on his tears and stumbled clumsily to his feet, forgetting the pain that surged through him as he staggered forward. He was openly weeping now, breathing in loud, heavy gasps. The tears that streamed down his face burned when compared with the cold, driving rain.

Cloud ignored the barbs that ripped open his skin as he ineptly scaled the fence. Blood ran down his wrists in rivulets by the time he landed on the other side. He frantically scanned the area, which was lit up by a greenish radiance.

"I've found you," he hissed, his face lighting up like a jack-o-lantern. A fiendish grin spread across his mouth as his eyes settled on a solemn man standing in front of the river, head bowed and hands shoved in pockets.

He limped forward, ignoring the spots that filled his vision, and stopped two feet from his not-father. The man slowly turned around and looked straight into Cloud's eyes, wearing the sober martyr's expression that the teenager had seen too many times before.

Cloud clenched his fists, suddenly filled with the harsh desire to _lunge, kill, beat, scream_. His mind had been wrapped in the familiar cocoon of his illness, letting its inky black rage and disorientation bleed into him.

He dove forward, letting a growling shriek rip out of his throat, and collided with the imitation of his father. The world seemed to slow even as he shouted, and in the split second before he hit the mako river, his adversary disappeared. Cloud's heart shriveled up into a pit of apprehension in his chest.

_I imagined all of it. Again._

He didn't have time to consider his death before he broke through the thick, green surface of the stream.

* * *

"Fuck—Reno! _Reno_!" 

Reno's head snapped up toward Zack, who hovered in front of the barbed fence, staring past it with glazed, horrified eyes. His fingers itched to grip the wire in front of him, but the spiked metal stopped him.

"He fell in," Zack mumbled, his voice spiking in pitch. "_Jumped _in."

The words sent Reno's insides jumbling with panic, and, sparing a glance to his left, he could tell Vincent was having a similar reaction, as much as the usually impassive teenager tried to hide it. His black brows lifted into the plain of his forehead and his soft lips parted.

And in all of the darkness and the rain, only one color caught the teenagers' eyes.

Blood stained the fence in a brilliant red.

"Oh, god. The boy is insane," Vincent whispered.

"_Was_ insane. _Is_ dead," Zack muttered, still staring at the place his friend fell.

"Shut up!" Reno screamed suddenly, shoving the boy's shoulder as hard as he could. Zack fell, staring up at him with wide eyes. He whispered dazed apologies until Vincent laid a hand on his arm.

"Zack. Get out your phone and call the police."

The sputtering boy on the ground pulled out his cell, dialing with shaking fingers, but it was intercepted by their hotheaded friend.

"_Fuck_ no. He can't go back to his house. We have to go get him ourselves."

He began to cover his hands with the length of his sleeves, filching Vincent's headband to add to the protection.

"Reno, no, _no_! You're just as goddamn crazy as he is!" Zack cried, pushing off of the ground to stand.

Reno was already climbing the barbed fence, feeling the spikes poke at his skin. He landed clumsily on the other side, casting away the fabric he'd wrapped around his hands, and ran toward the mako river.

A large root had caught Cloud just underneath the surface. Reno had, by chance, happened upon blond spikes sticking just barely above the glowing green river and haphazardly reached in, tugging like a madman to release his friend.

"I found him!" he screamed over his shoulder. His voice was almost lost among the pounding of blood in their ears and the rain, but he was too determined to let it be drowned out. "_I found him_!"

"He's dead." Zack didn't need to shout to be heard. It broke over the tumult.

Reno shook his head, adamantly giving another tug. Finally, he fell backward, pulling Cloud with him.

There was no gasp of air from the drowned boy as Reno had been expecting- hoping for, really. He felt desperately for a pulse---

He nearly sobbed aloud in relief.

After a rather awkward trip over the barbed fence with Cloud slung over his shoulder, he was received by two pairs of shaking arms.

"I fucking _told _you, Zack."

* * *

Intense! 

Review, please.


	2. glowingeyes

No proofreading hurrah!

I like this chapter, guys. I wrote the last couple of parts within the past hour or two.

Warnings: I really like swearing?; some disturbing content(puke, which is not that bad if I could stand writing it, child abuse)?

Disclaimer: Me thinking Cloud, Reno, Vincent, Zack, and Sephiroth (but especially Cloud) are unbearably sexy does not mean I own them.

* * *

They lay uncomfortably wedged in corners and empty spaces of Vincent's room that night, unable to sleep. Cloud took the bed, stretched out under tangled sheets, his breathing audibly painful and strained.

His thin, pale body was covered in sweat and blood, but his friends couldn't find a wound on him.

Reno had speculated that the mako had somehow healed him.

"Reno, this is stupid," Vincent ground through his teeth in the darkness. "We should be taking him to a hospital. He's mako-poisoned, he can hardly breathe, he's shaking and sweating--"

"No."

The firm tone of voice startled the black-haired boy. He could make out his friend glaring dangerously in his direction, tense and unyielding.

"No hospital," he agreed haltingly, quietly.

* * *

Zack slipped out from underneath Vincent's desk. His friends had finally succumbed to a heavy, albeit fitful, sleep.

He kneeled next to the bed, laying his arms out over the top.

Cloud's eyes had slipped halfway open, even though the boy was comatose as ever. His blue irises slipped just below the line of blond lashes. Zack noted with surprise that they now glowed, permeating the darkness of night with a dusky, purple-blue light.

He only knew of one other person with eyes that glowed.

* * *

The next morning, Vincent woke to find Zack kneeling beside his bed, his upper half stretched ungracefully across the bedspread, snoring loudly. Cloud still looked terrible- no surprise, really.

He slunk out of his room and down the hallway, hanging his head in pure exhaustion. His aunt, who had fallen asleep on the couch even before the trio had stumbled into the house, soaked and shaken, carrying their dying friend, was still there, dozing lightly. He untangled the blanket from around her feet and spread it over her sleeping form.

Reno was in the kitchen, staring out the window like a hawk.

"Vinnie," he spoke softly, never moving his gaze from the outside. It was still raining, but the furious storm from before had lightened to a grey drizzle. "Vinnie, we can't let him go back to his house. So… we can't let anyone find him. If you want, I'll bring him back to my place, so you don't have to—"

He stopped, sighing.

A voice interrupted from behind.

"Guys, I'll take him home with me," Zack said, smiling tiredly. "I know someone trustworthy. They can help."

"Might I ask," Vincent ground out between his teeth, glaring first at Zack, then at Reno, "why we need to hide him away from the world?"

Suddenly, all eyes were plastered on the redhead, who looked very ashen.

"Well—did you see how hurt he was, did you _see_?" he suddenly exploded, looking accusingly at his friends. "Fuck! Where do you think he got like that?"

"Vincent?" It was a soft, sleepy, feminine voice. The aunt, a very compact woman named Lyla Valentine, stood in the doorway, bleary eyes traveling around the room.

"Sorry, Lyla," the dark-haired boy muttered. As he led her toward her own room, he shot a deadly look behind him.

"I'll go get Cloud," Zack broke the silence.

Minutes later, Reno watched Zack's sleek blue car drive away, a sick, shuddering Cloud trapped in the back seat.

* * *

Sephiroth pulled his hair back from his glowing green eyes and examined the boy.

"It's very severe." His voice was smooth and strong.

-- Cold.

Cloud's own voice had come back, but had transformed itself into quiet, keening wails and dead groans.

"He should be dead, Zack, I hope you know that. I don't know yet what can be done. How on earth did he get this way?"

"He jumped in."

Sephiroth sputtered. "Suicidal?"

Zack quickly shook his head. "I think he was hallucinating… He was really fucked up, bleeding everywhere… He fucking scaled that barbed fence, Seph."

Cloud proceeded to flip onto his side and throw up noisily on the floor. He was wiped down, the mess was cleaned. Zack poured water slowly into his mouth.

"Continue to nurse him as such for a few days. Call me if he improves… or doesn't."

* * *

The next day, Cloud was in the news. Reno came to school with a paper, cursing as quietly as he could manage.

**Unstable Cloud Strife gone missing**

"They're gonna question us," Reno raved, chucking the suddenly accusatory article to the ground. Vincent picked it up, skimming the black-and-white lines. His scarlet eyes widened suddenly.

"Schizophrenic!" he hissed. "Reno, _Reno_! Did you know about this?"

"_Fuck _no! Schizophrenic?"

Zack shook his head in pure frustration. "He must have medication."

"You can't go get it," Reno warned dangerously. "He'll have to go fucking crazy, his dad can't find him."

He left it at that, storming away. Hard footfalls reverberated back toward two torn and confused friends.

* * *

Cloud had puked again several times, missing the trash can conveniently placed next to his bed only once.

Some sense of lucidity was returning finally, but all he could see in the dim room was a golden butterfly flitting around. After watching it the entire day long, he noticed it settle on the edge of the bed. It stared back at him congenially.

They sat in this oddly companionable silence for some time, one boy (quivering, sweating, covered in his own vomit, but utterly captivated by the butterfly), and one beautiful, glowing creature.

Then Zack came home, gave him a smile which went unseen, and turned on the television right away. He flicked through news stations until—

Cloud recognized the sound of his father's voice and turned his head toward the screen. That same _cold, sad, martyr's mask _loomed out at him, spewing some nonsense about love and sorrow for his lost son.

Fear overtook him suddenly, devastating and consuming, and when he turned back to the butterfly, a weak, sobbing cry issued from his throat.

It had become an immense thing, gigantic and grotesque, and Cloud could, goddammit, he could _feel _it weighing down the bed.

It lifted and fluttered its wings, hardly taking flight. The wings staggered, carrying it sickly toward the boy.

He gave a hoarse, high-pitched cry of terror, squeezing his eyes shut. Zack's arms held him until he felt the butterfly's massive form disappear from his chest. Rivers of tears flowed down his cheeks.

"Cloud, oh my god, Cloud, you're alright, don't cry, please."

The sickness took him once more, pulling him farther and father into blankness and unreality.

* * *

"His father _beats him_."

Vincent let Reno's collar free. "What?"

"The esteemed Robert Strife beats the shit out of his kid." The redhead's voice was as hard and frigid as ice.

"That fucking _bastard_!" Vincent burst, wincing at the pain erupting in his knuckles as he punched the wall.

"That's what I said," his companion replied in an unusually weak voice.

Silence reigned.


	3. deeptrouble

Uhhh, I've somehow forgotten everything about this chapter. I hope you enjoy?

Same warnings as ever. Reno likes to swear, and so do I.

* * *

Cloud's lips were wet with saliva and the remains of vomit. Vincent entered the room, eyes immediately alighting upon the scars on his body that had always been out of sight.

They explained everything; silent they were, some faded, some fresh, unassumingly and dutifully marking every heartache and pain.

"Zack," Vincent said angrily, unable to tear his eyes from those vile scars, "his father."

That was all he could say, and Zack understood, automatically understood.

"He was awake before… just long enough to hallucinate something."

"Did he say anything?"

"No, he just… screamed and cried."

* * *

He saw the same man, in the cloud of the mako poisoning. He was sitting on the foot of the bed, hunched over, facing the opposite wall.

Cloud tried poking him with his toe. Nothing happened.

Finally, after minutes of waiting, the man turned around. The same obscene face grinned, bobbing once or twice, up and down.

Another staredown ensued as Cloud attempted to fight down the nausea rising in him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the air stung his throat and nose, and the pain sent bright green lights flashing behind his eyes.

"Don't speak," came the harsh, pulsing tone he remembered- however dim the memory was. "You're disgusting. Lying here sick as a dog, because you're just a fucking dog… while your poor father searches for you."

The mysterious figure laughed.

* * *

"Cloud, can you hear me?"

The boy stared straight ahead.

Sephiroth gripped his chin gently with two fingers, turned it toward himself to meet glazed mako-eyes. There was no sign of recognition.

The blonde teenager's breaths were drawn past a tightened chest, causing the sound to fill the room. Sweat still poured fresh from mako-clogged pores, trying to rid the body of the poison and its heat.

"I can hardly call this an improvement," noted the silver-haired doctor. "If his breathing wasn't so apparent, I would insist he were already dead."

"Seph," Zack pleaded, clamping a hand on his friend's shoulder, "he's really crazy—schizophrenic! He's been awake, aware, but he was hallucinating the entire time."

There was a pause, one that swelled with tension.

"Does he have medication, Zack?"

"Well, yes," was the hesitant reply. "But it's not available to us—not under any circumstance."

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do in the way of retrieving any for him. He'll have to go without it."

* * *

Vincent was at the supermarket, desperately attempting to pretend he wasn't embarrassed to been seen there, when he looked up and saw him—Robert Strife. His hand tightened around the tomato he had been testing for ripeness. When it burst, he carefully placed it in an inconspicuous spot on the pile and moved along.

He could feel the man's eyes drilling holes into him, but he couldn't look up. If he looked up, he'd have to acknowledge him. What if he _knew_ that he knew something?

Apparently the bastard wasn't as passive aggressive as he. A hand was placed on Vincent's shoulder, and he was forced to look at him.

It was hard, very hard, to stare into the face of the man that put possibly his best friend into his own personalized Hell—especially when the remorse that twisted his features was obviously fake.

"Vincent," the _fake _was in his voice, too. There was an elongated pause.

Vincent remembered himself and said, "Hello, sir."

"I know you must be very upset about my son as well… Listen—you don't know anything about it, do you?"

He couldn't respond for the longest moment. Slowly, he picked the hand off of his shoulder.

"No, sir, I don't." Vincent simply couldn't help the glare he shot directly into Mr. Strife's eyes. It miraculously melted the ridiculous disguise of sadness on the man's face. For a moment, the teenager was frightened.

"If you know anything," the older Strife spat, "you'd better use that knowledge to get him back to me. He'll be missing those little white pills. That's right—you know about how fucked up he is, don't you?"

Vincent held fast to his glare, pushing down a vicious wave of nausea, until the man next to him stalked away.

* * *

The mako had begun to course through his body again, sending him into dangerously severe convulsions and rendering him unconscious.

Reno stood over the bed, watching the sickness run rampant. It was… sickening, for lack of a less redundant term.

The door opened to let in Zack, who balanced a rather precarious-looking tray in his left hand. Once safely inside, he set it down on the end table.

There was a bowl of cold water with a washcloth folded neatly inside, two plates of spaghetti, and two mugs of hot cider.

After mopping Cloud's face and neck and letting the cloth gently rest on the boy's forehead, the other two tucked into their dinner. It was eerily silent.

"Reno," Zack suddenly blurted, "I can't keep him here much longer. My parents are coming back from vacation next week."

"So, what is he going to do? I really want to help him—God, I really do, Zack, but my parents are totally drawn into this whole dilemma. I couldn't hide him."

"Relax," Zack laughed. "I know somewhere he can go."

* * *

Several days later, the night before Cloud was supposed to be transferred to a new location, Zack woke in the smallest hours of the morning to screams.

Stumbling off of the couch, he made his way toward his bedroom, shaking himself awake all the way.

Cloud was pressed into the headboard, screaming at some unseen intruder near the end of the bed, tears streaming down his pale face.

Zack was there in an instant, wrapping his arms around the weary frame of his friend. For a moment, he was beginning to calm down, but suddenly—

Cloud's mako eyes widened in absolute terror and he began to flail in the dark-haired boy's grip.

"Don't!" he rasped as Zack struggled to hold on. "No, don't hurt him!" He tugged at the arms that encircled him, twisting and thrashing around.

His words turned into nothing more than shrieks of panic.

Zack pulled the boy closer, unfazed by the pain of the hailing of fists and feet.

"Cloud," he whispered, voice inexplicably rising above the wails, "it's okay, no one's going to hurt anyone, it's alright. Please, calm down. Please, it's okay."

Teeth dug into the older teenager's arm, and he yelped, forgetting himself and letting go, falling backwards, landing ungracefully on the floor.

Cloud braced himself facing the headboard—and slammed his forehead into it furiously, repeatedly, still screaming.

"Cloud, _shit_, stop!"

By the time Zack was able to pry his deranged friend from the bed, blood was leaking in furious red and black lines down his face, mixing prettily with the tears.

"No, Zack," Cloud moaned, passing out while entangled in his protector's arms.

Sighing, the more conscious of the two stretched out on the bed, hugging the bleeding boy close as he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

When he awoke, Zack was covered in blood and twisted with the hot, sweaty form of his blonde friend.

The blood left stains on his skin. He scrubbed at them with the cloth that hung in the shower, attempted to scratch the pink away with bitten stubs of nails.

He had a towel wrapped around his waist, raking through his spiky hairdo with his fingers, when someone pounded on the front door. Frantically, he dressed in boxers and jeans, running toward the front of his house.

The face at the door made him choke and stumble backwards. The forbidding, rigid smile opened up and spoke.

"Hello, Zack. May I come in?"

Remembering himself, the teenager stood aside, forcing a bright, smiling look on his face. "Sure, Mr. Strife. Come on in. Ah… do you need something to drink?" He felt absolutely absurd. "I'm sorry, you caught me at a bad time… let me—"

A hand caught his elbow.

"Where is he, Zack?"

Suddenly Zack remembered the unconscious schizo in his bedroom. If he was discovered, they were all _dead_—and, judging by the level of abuse demonstrated by the man before him, that very well could be a literal statement. He silently prayed that Cloud would not make a noise.

"S-sorry," he stumbled. "I don't know where he is, sir."

The grip tightened.

"Your friend Vincent seemed to know something. Being the stubborn little shit he is, he wouldn't tell me. Do you know anything, Zack?"

"No, sir." Zack felt very sick. He tried to pull his elbow away, but the hold Mr. Strife had on him suddenly tensed until he was almost sure something was going to break.

"You're up to something. Is he here?" the man spat, shaking Zack's arm with a brutal vigor. He let go with startling abruptness, wheeling around to scan the room. "You could be hiding him behind any one of these of closed doors in this ostentatious, sickening house! Are your parents home? Do they know that you're holding my son hostage?"

"Mr. Strife, he's not here! And- and my parents are on vacation. Please get out!"

"Oh, they're gone, are they? So they don't know what a criminal you are? When will they be back?" His tone was mocking, clearly. The man had a near-insane grin on his face.

Zack sent him a hardened glare. "Next week," he lied.

"Then I suppose I'll just have to look for him myself."

Mr. Robert Strife, the newest and most respected politician in Midgar, disappeared inside Zack's house, sending innocent furniture pieces crashing to the floor and slamming doors.

"Where is he?" he screamed as the teenager desperately attempted to catch up to him.

There was one door left. Everything grew silent. The look on the intruder's face was that of pure glee and deviousness, as if he were a bully on the playground about to claim the prize of surrender.

Zack did the only thing he could do.

He tackled him.

It was a spectacular brawl—they both had experience in fighting, for their different reasons (Zack had grown up wrestling his older brother; he supposed it was only natural that a concession to be on the wrestling team at school was coerced from his, then _enforced_)—for a full five minutes, they seemed evenly matched.

Zack's head was slammed on the hard floor, and he winced in pain, feeling himself be pinned by the elder.

Two rough hands locked around his throat. Shocked and angry, the dark-haired boy tried to pry them off, but they only squeezed harder.

"Hmmm, Zachary, should I call the police?"

_Sephiroth_. In alarm, Mr. Strife fell backward off of him. He slowly, shakily, stood.

"Nah, Seph, it's fine."

Cloud's father couldn't leave fast enough.

* * *

Reno was getting absolutely fucking smashed. Beer bottles littered the floor, spilling droplets of liquid poison onto the carpet.

His glazed eyes snapped bitterly to the window.

"Beautiful," he muttered, making out the green glow in the night-darkness outside. "That light is just so fucking pretty."

He wiped spit from his lip, only to wet them again with his tongue as he sat back into the disgusting green recliner next to the bedroom window.

"God, I hate Midgar," he whispered, trying to get the quaver out of his voice before he

burst into a round of fucking sissy tears.

Cloud had come to him about a week after they had officially befriended each other with a guilty kicked-dog expression on his face, not daring to look up.

"Reno, you're my only friend, and… I trust you."

He turned his head, and an ugly bruise showed itself, engulfing his left eye. The whiteness on the outside of the striking blue iris had transformed into a repulsive red.

Reno had braced his arm around the kid's shoulder, fighting a violent urge to vomit, and didn't say anything.

From then until… _now_, the pair had been the best of friends. When they hung out, they were boorish teenagers, awkward and obnoxious and sometimes deathly quiet, but the best of friends.

Cloud hadn't ever told anyone else.

Reno opened another beer and chugged it down without pause.

He was lonely.

* * *

I know you. You're one of the 314 people that's hit my chapters without reviewing. _That's right, I know_.

Review please.


	4. daddydaddy

The butterfly was blessedly tiny this time. Cloud was just coherent enough to be carried on piggy-back into Sephiroth's house, and the glowing thing lit upon his shoulder. It had tiny fangs that bit into him and drew a rivulet of oozing, radiant golden blood. He couldn't lift his arms to bat it away.

Sephiroth placed him very carefully on the couch. The butterfly landed gingerly on the tip of his nose as the silver-haired man left the room. Slowly, it walked up toward his eye until it rested just below his lash line.

Cloud was suddenly extremely terrified that it was going to hurt him— those miniscule _fangs_—going to gouge out his eye, leaving a gruesome display of shimmering, thick gore.

"Butterfly," he whispered with the tone of a sad, frightened child. "Butterfly, beautiful golden butterfly…"

* * *

The sound of bones cracking rung sickeningly in the air as hard, white knuckles slammed against his jaw. He reeled from the force, swinging his arms in a desperate attempt to regain his balance—

All he could see were explosions of red. All he could feel was pain—

Suddenly he was sitting five feet away, watching Cloud slump against the wall, wheezing, bleeding horribly onto the carpet—

Reno jolted upward and stumbled out of bed. Sweat poured down his arms as he desperately made way for the door, his mind a mess and tears terrorizing his eyes with a terrible burn.

He didn't make it. He settled instead for the trash can, emptying his guts with pathetic retching wails inside.

When he was finished, Reno pulled his hair out of his face and leaned against the wall, clamping his hand tight over his eyes. Finally, he released a flow of hot tears that wrenched loud, ragged sobs from his chest, and cleaned the vomit from the corners of his mouth.

"Cloud," he whispered into the hushed room. "Oh, god, Cloud…"

* * *

"Oh, hello, Vincent," Reno's mother greeted warmly, waving the dark-haired teenager inside. "Come on in. I believe Reno is still sleeping."

Vincent smiled and nodded at her, a youngish woman with soft, pale features and the same bright red hair his friend was known for. It fell in soft waves from a low ponytail, lying against the darkness of her dressy black sweater in stark contrast.

"I'm heading off to work," she said, "but you're welcome to stay."

"Thank you."

Vincent treaded down the hallway as Reno's mother left the house, pulling on her grey coat. He gazed solemnly at the brassy doorknob that would lead him into Reno's room, suddenly feeling suffocated. Dread built itself in the pit of his chest, overpowering him with nausea. Briefly, he considered turning back, but the nagging trepidation wouldn't let him leave.

He tried to push open the door, but there was a soft, unmoving obstacle in front of it. Sighing, he shoved harder, and it creaked reluctantly open.

"Holy _fuck_," Vincent choked, overwhelmed by the sickening smell of stale beer and puke. He stepped into the room and lifted Reno off of the floor.

Coughing, Vincent stared down at his friend's pale face. It was streaked with tears, but other than that he looked mostly unharmed and—well, as healthy as one can be after a night of bingeing.

Unenthusiastically, he began his housekeeping duties, erasing any whisper of alcohol and misery from the room as his friend slept.

* * *

"Vinnie… I had a really bad dream last night." Reno could tell that his friend was attempting to ignore the misuse of his name and grinned.

"Is that when you started to… indulge?" the latter replied, holding a beer bottle between his first two fingers, obviously disgusted.

The redhead laughed. "Nah, I definitely got hammered way before that."

"How early?" Vincent acquired, placing the bottle back into the trash bag that was full to stretching and tinkling with all the glass. Reno stared at it, all of a sudden terribly sad. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt even lonelier than before; those bottles had unexpectedly sucked everything away from him. Each one he drank dragged him deeper. Didn't even notice, did he, while he was busy getting shitfaced? Inside, he laughed, because it was too late now.

Reno cursed softly.

* * *

Sephiroth watched his young patient sleep. He had woken up earlier, lucid and surprisingly clear-headed. They had traded introductions, and the boy didn't question his situation or surroundings, merely fell asleep again, snuggled in the thick comforter of the guest bed.

Really, it had been totally unexpected. The only person who had ever survived severe mako poisoning was- himself. People usually died within the hour, and this young teenager had gone a week at least.

Sephiroth remembered being a small child, marveling at the way the green liquid flowed through the syringe for the first time. He'd never again marveled at it, only dreaded the mild sickness that wracked his body afterward and the horrible pain that flowed through his veins.

Sephiroth remembered the day his father went mad. He let out a chuckle, burying his face in one hand. The man had been mad from the beginning.

Cloud coughed painfully, leaving a splatter of blood and mako on the pillow. It quickly soaked in, spread, leaving a stain. The boy tossed to the side, his face strained as he coughed again.

His eyes fluttered open, and Sephiroth felt a glimmer of hope. The unseeing quality to the teenager's eyes squashed it almost immediately.

Even as terrible, bloody coughs wracked Cloud's thin body, his eyes remained perfectly vacant.

* * *

"Zack, why the fuck are you so bruised? What happened?" Reno questioned harshly, pulling his friend into the house by the collar. He made a comically callous mother-hen, straightening Zack's clothing with sharp jerks of his hands and a frown on his face. Vincent smiled behind him.

"Cloud's shithead of a father happened," was the cheerful answer.

The atmosphere switched like a light from their tired, tense version of calm to one of rage.

"Yeah. He came to my house. He was crazy, destroying all of my _stuff,_ running around yelling, searching the place. He was about to find Cloud, so I… Well, I panicked and… attacked him. Thank God Sephiroth came. He was about to strangle me.

"Anyway—My parents are home now, and naturally they want to know what the fuck's been going on. I cleaned up the place, but I'm still covered in bruises."

Zack's face was very grim.

"Guys, we're in over our heads."

Reno exploded suddenly, whirling around and stalking away, muttering violent obscenities in a way that suggested he was trying and failing to control himself.

"Reno—"

"No! _No, _Vincent, I can't calm down. That fucker _knows_. He's going to go after _us_! I…" He growled fiercely, digging his fingers into the mane of red on top of his head. "He's going to destroy us, then get Cloud!"

Silence fell stiflingly over the trio.

"_Fuck_ this," the hotheaded teen whispered intensely, turning and storming away again. He locked himself in his bathroom, and the other two didn't see him for the rest of the day.

* * *

Cloud was having dreams, mostly about his mother. The poor boy hadn't seen the woman in years, but he knew she was out there somewhere, being her totally uncaring self. It was nothing he didn't expect.

Most children from broken families were lucky enough to have just one truly deadbeat parent—one who beats the shit out of you and _then _leaves.

Cloud dreamed that she was standing in the doorway of their small house in Nibelheim when her son was just five years old. The little boy clung to her leg, face buried in the fabric of her skirt, begging her not to leave. He knew even by this point in his short life that she was just full of apathy and selfish heartache, but he could take that pain if it meant being subjected to less brutality from his father.

… His father never laid a finger on his mother.

She looked down at him blankly and put a gentle hand on his forehead. He stopped sobbing, staring at her in amazement. Her thumb gently stroked the hair out of his face, and he leaned into the touch, hoping, hoping…

Suddenly, she shoved him backwards. As he fell, shocked and heartbroken, she turned and swiftly left the house.

* * *

Cloud lay in the bed, arms splayed beside him, staring at the ceiling.

He was in a dark cave, with black walls that shone with sickening wetness. The cold air chilled his skin, and the water that dripped from above didn't help matters, landing on his bare chest and arms. His body shivered uncontrollably.

Cloud couldn't focus much on that, however; all he could pay attention to was the army of glowing wings moving grotesquely on the ceiling.

There were thousands of them. The walls of Sephiroth's guest room were of no object. The cave broke them down, and stretched further than Cloud could see in every direction.

And the butterflies—were everywhere. They lit up the cave.

If he looked just so far to the left or right, he could see their burnt-out bodies, left with no shimmer in their wings, littering the ground. Hot tears clung to his eyelashes as he tilted his head. One was still moving, reaching out to touch his cold, pale fingers.

* * *

Cloud almost died the day his mother left them.

When his father came home from work, saw his son sobbing in the corner, and read the note that his wife had left taped to the refrigerator, he didn't react violently as expected. Instead, he disappeared further into the house for an hour. When he came storming back and saw Cloud eating bread from the pantry, he wasted no time in swinging the boy off of his feet from the collar.

With no words, he threw his son headfirst into the counter. Cloud slumped to the ground, bleeding fiercely from his scalp, a look of terrible fear still contorting his childlike face.

Mr. Strife just punched the wall, counted to ten slowly in his head, and poured himself a glass of wine. Outside, it was raining, and he sat, watching the water hit the window, sipping the red liquid solemnly. His eyes strayed to his child only once, but his expression never changed.

* * *

_Daddy Daddy_

Robert Strife laughed loudly, running his hands through his hair.

_You know, Mr_._ Strife—_

He fired _that _psychiatrist right away—

_There is reason to believe that schizophrenia is genetic_.

He slammed open the door to his son's abandoned bedroom and stormed inside. Empty, empty, empty. Of course it was. He was gone. Just like Marie. He was fucking glad.

There was a picture on the desk. It was new, about three weeks old at the most. There were four teenagers, outside the high school, during lunch. Vincent sat against the wall on a bench, his short, spiky, black hair hanging heavy in the pre-summer heat. Zack stood next to him, leaning against the wall. Cloud's hands were shoved in his pockets, and his face was squinting against the sun. Reno had one arm slung around his neck, and the other was flashing the camera a very rude gesture.

They were all grinning madly, except his boy. Something about that made Mr. Strife smile.

_Daddy why?_

_Daddy don't hit_

_Daddy you hurt me_

_Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy_

"Daddy."

Slowly, Mr. Strife dropped the photograph and turned. There was a little boy standing just at the foot of the bed, facing him. His tiny face was blank and covered in blood that dripped from his scalp and stained his hair.

"Daddy, I—I—"

His lips formed the word hate, but no sound came out. The child burst into tears, gripping the sides of his head and making the blood gush faster.

"Daddy, stop!"

Mr. Strife watched with disgusted fascination as his son fell to his knees, curling in on himself and screaming. His chest ached suddenly, just above his heart, and he rubbed it absently.

Suddenly, the boy's head shot up, and his face was flooded with fury. His eyes threw daggers, and Mr. Strife's heart hurt even more.

* * *

I'm back. 


	5. amen

**Posted: about 2:40 PM EST July 08, 2008**

**I apologize for taking since NOVEMBER for this chapter. You guys are my favorite people in the world. I adore your reviews. Hopefully you haven't given up on me.**

**oooo**

Cloud woke up coherent for the first time in days. A few moments after he became aware of himself, he also became aware of the fierce shaking in his limbs and the sharp aching in his bones.

"Cloud?"

He blinked slowly, dumbly, trying to get rid of the haze over his vision. There was a dark blob hovering over him.

He tried out his voice: "V-Vi—"

The rest of the word was a combination of a hiss, a groan, and a cough. His quiet friend reached out and placed something cool on his forehead.

"You're awake," he said simply, seeming vaguely surprised. There was a moment of silence. "I'm sorry, Cloud."

Cloud, still dazed and disoriented, mumbled, "S'okay…"

Vincent busied himself with the blankets around his sick friend, adjusting the washcloth on his forehead, and bringing a glass of cool water to his chapped lips.

Cloud wheezed and whispered, "What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

After a second of surprise, the blonde closed his eyes and thought hard.

There were segments of memories that jumped out in front of him like a deer in front of a car, but left as suddenly as they had come. There was one recurring theme, however:

"Remember… a butterfly." His voice was thick with confusion, and when he looked up at Vincent he noticed no recognition. He had enough lucid thought to be sheepish, and decided to try harder.

"Ah… Reno called … I wanted to wait for my dad to come home, and…"

Cloud stopped, looking up at the dark boy anxiously.

"You jumped into the river. Zack and I were sure you were dead, but…

"Reno saved you."

Cloud swallowed hard, feeling tears prick at his eyes.

"We know about your father…"

A sudden sob tore the air. The sick teenager lifted his arm to fist his fingers into his hair feebly, squeezing his eyes shut. Fear rippled through him, forcing more weak wails from his throat.

Quietly, Vincent continued. "First we brought you to my house, but then Zack took you, because his parents were away. Your father arrived at his door one morning."

"Oh, _god,_" Cloud choked. "What did he do? What happened to Zack? Is everything okay? Vincent—"

"He ransacked the house looking for you, and almost found you. Zack tackled him and almost ended up strangled for his efforts. But then Sephiroth came."

He knew Sephiroth, but he didn't know why, or from where. He could just picture the man in his mind. There were no feelings or thoughts associated with him, except for the unending sickness and disorientation that seemed to have been with him forever.

The door opened then, letting in the mysterious man himself. When his sharp green eyes fell on Cloud, they widened minutely in surprise.

"You're awake."

* * *

Everyone was gone except for Sephiroth, now. He sat at Cloud's bedside, watching as the boy struggled against sleep.

His mind was so full of memories. He felt like his head was swelling with them, all attempting to be seen. They surged through the convolutions of his brain with an almost electric energy.

_Pain, pain, pain, painpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpain_. _The man was gripping his head and shoving the needle into the soft flesh of his neck and it was _swelling _in his veins like poison, the poison it was, eating him alive from the inside_.

He shook his head and rubbed vigorously at his eyes, being sure to keep his gaze on Cloud. The boy was sweating and feverish. In the dark, Sephiroth could see the sweat that coated his pale skin give off a soft, green glow. The mako was slowly leaving his system.

_Red red blood stained the floor, spreading sickly toward him like it was alive_. _It was splattered on his skin_. _Hojo lay in a pool of it, face lifeless but still set in the cruel expression Sephiroth always remembered_.

* * *

Reno's mother let Zack in with an uneasy smile.

"He hasn't been out of his room at all. It would be really nice if you could go in and talk to him. I think he's upset about Cloud. They were close."

Zack smiled softly. "We all are. I'll see if I can talk him out of there."

She patted him on the shoulder and slid past him out the door, on her way to work again in her black turtleneck and grey pencil skirt.

He walked slowly down the hallway until he reached Reno's room and opened the door, not bothering to knock. The TV was on to the news.

"A team of investigators has discovered that the scientific research lab located in Nibelheim, closed down ten years ago, was actually being used to research the dangerous substance, Mako, which makes up the mysterious Mako Rivers in Midgar. From records found in the abandoned laboratories concerning waste disposal, the investigators have concluded that there is a great chance that Nibelheim's soil is largely contaminated by the poisonous material. Longtime citizens of the small town have been tested, and it is determined that they have been living with trace amounts of Mako in their blood, which suggests that they may have a higher tolerance to it. However, it also might decrease their life spans. This is yet to be seen."

Reno moodily pressed the Power button on the remote and gave Zack a withering look. The room smelled like beer, but thankfully the bottles scattered on the floor added up to less than last time.

"Vincent said he woke up. And he was talking and stuff."

Reno closed his eyes and sighed.

"Would you like to go visit him?"

The redheaded boy lifted his head and gave him a piercing stare. His eyes were filled with tears and his gaze seemed to plead for help and tell him to fuck off at the same time.

"Reno, he needs you," Zack whispered dully.

"_No, _he doesn't!" the drunk teenager snapped, leaping to his feet. "He does _not _need me. Have you stopped to wonder that maybe, maybe, maybe _I _need _him_? And he can't help me if he's comatose or drooling or sobbing his eyes out or hallucinating and he _can't_! I need to be there for him because _I_ _need _it, but this time, I can't."

The astonished Zack could only gape, watching a range of emotions flash across his friend's face: rage, misery, desperation.

Finally, he steeled his resolve and landed a punch right on Reno's jaw.

"You needed that," he spat, rubbing his knuckles as Reno fell to the floor, cursing. "You don't know what the _hell_ you're talking about." His voice was rising, and he had to pause to calm himself down.

"Zack, what the _fuck—"_

"I am going to visit Cloud. Right now. You're welcome to come along if you can clean yourself up and stop fucking whining."

He left the room, mumbling under his breath. Reno stared after him, jaw clenched, and rose to his feet to follow.

* * *

Cloud was propped up on a sea of pillows, eyes hooded but open, watching the news, when Zack and Reno entered. He didn't notice their arrival until they sat on the other side of the bed and said his name.

He turned his head to them, and a faint light of recognition appeared on his face. He smiled weakly. "Hi."

"Hey, Cloud, how's it going?" Zack greeted warmly, his voice seeming to fill the room with light.

The blonde boy tilted his head back onto the pillows and closed his eyes. "Tired," he groaned. "I've never been so tired in my life." He coughed, his underused throat protesting this string of words.

"But you're up—that's good. Man, anyone else would have been a goner, but you—"

"Did you see the news, Cloud?" Reno asked in a low voice. "About Nibelheim?"

After a brief pause, Cloud nodded slowly. "That lab… poisoned everyone." He coughed again, more violently this time, and turned to spit into the trashcan next to the bed. It was a mixture of phlegm, blood, and Mako, which had taken on a blackish tint. Sephiroth had mused that it was a sign of infection, and had injected him with something only an hour ago. "And that's why I'm alive…"

"The search for seventeen-year-old Cloud Strife continues today, as his father, Representative Robert Strife, makes another plea to the citizens of Midgar."

Cloud froze and turned back to the television. Under the anchor's commentary, the screen showed his father, face pinched into an expression of scarcely-contained devastation, addressing a crowd from behind a podium. The picture changed to one of the teen himself, one of his senior pictures, which had been taken three months ago.

"He wants me to look good," Cloud choked almost deliriously. "I hardly look like that stupid picture."

"The teenager went missing a little over a week ago, just before Midgar Schools went on spring break. He was a straight-A student at Midgar Central, despite having moved in the middle of the school year. However, he has been diagnosed with a very mild form of schizophrenia. His medication was left at home when he disappeared.

"Representative Strife has warned the public that, because of his condition, Cloud could be dangerous. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Cloud Strife, call the number on the bottom of the screen now."

Cloud's face had gone ashen.

(_they know they know they know, everyone knows now_)

Harsh breaths began to rip in and out of his body, burning his throat and chest. Zack and Reno immediately surrounded him, hovering in a way that reminded him of vultures. Spots clouded his vision.

"Keep it together, buddy," Zack murmured, fear glazing over his eyes.

Cloud's head swiveled to the left, past Reno, and he cried out in terror.

The nameless man from the night at the river was back again, standing next to him and grinning.

"I'm not real," he hissed in a taunting voice. "You're crazy, you're sick, _sick sick sick sick sick—_"

"_Shut up!_" Cloud screamed hoarsely, covering his ears. His gasps were joined by sobs that ripped apart his chest.

(_Where's the butterfly where is it where did it go I want it to come back please please_)

"You're fucking _weak _and _sick. _Your friends are going to pay for it, too, because daddy's not going to be happy…" The man laughed, a grotesque sound. "He's going to hurt them, he will, and he's going to hurt you, too. Because you fucked up."

A pair of arms encircled his body.

(_No no no no don't hurt me, don't hurt them, please no_)

He bucked and flailed and screamed, but the arms wouldn't let go. So he sat still, sobbing and shouting until his voice gave out completely.

Reno slowly released Cloud, and the boy slumped onto the pillows, eyes barely open, breathing raggedly but slowly.

In the second before his mind shut off into sleep, the butterfly flicked across his field of vision. His lips stretched into a grin.

* * *

The doorbell rang. Vincent heard his aunt Lyla abandon her stew to answer it, and relaxed into his homework.

(_the use of parallel structure in the poem—)_

"Vincent?" Lyla's voice was nervous.

He strode out into the foyer and stopped short. Two police officers, with stern expressions that barely hid their boredom, stood just in front of the welcome mat. They spotted him and turned up the severity in their eyes.

(_they probably love to see how much they can scare little boys like me_,) he thought spitefully.

"Vincent Valentine? We have a few questions regarding your friend, Cloud."

He had known this was coming. He hid the sudden thumping of his heart behind a cool appearance and nodded.

Lyla led them into the living room. Vincent and the officers sat staring across the coffee table at each other.

"Vincent—is that what you prefer to be called?" said the first officer, watching for a response, which he received in the form of a nod. "Vincent, we understand that you were good friends with Cloud. Did you know about his schizophrenia before he disappeared?"

"No."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

Vincent took care not to pause too long. He hated lying. He wanted, a little, to just tell these officers the truth (including the abuse that Cloud regularly endured in the care of his father). Then, this whole ridiculous charade would end.

"At school, the last day he showed up."

* * *

In Nibelheim, after his mother left, Cloud and his father became outcasts.

"_Did you see the boy after—" _

"_She left so suddenly—"_

"_He had to go to the hospital—"_

Cloud went to school every day and slowly lost all of his friends. Aerith was the last to go, after Tifa.

"_Aerith, honey, I don't want you spending any more time with that boy—"_

Cloud's mother had taken him into the bathroom after every beating and had disinterestedly bandaged him and iced his bruises. Without her, the whole town could see every scar, every swollen cheek, every streak of blood gone unnoticed.

* * *

_Dear God, please bring mommy back please make daddy nicer please?_

_Amen__­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­_

_Dear God, please bring Aerith back_

_Amen_

_Dear God, I don't know if I believe in you anymore_

_Amen_

* * *


	6. killedhim

**Posted: 7:42ish EST July 17, 2008**

**My favorite reviewers are Infinite Devil Machine and silenceinlight. Apparently my stories trigger some sort of chemical reactions in their brains that they really enjoy. I use their reviews to feed my EgoMonster. Srsly.**

**Also, it seems all of my reviewers are sadistic. It's okay, so am I. So, I put another section of Cloud-torture in here, but for the sake of the story I can't do much more of that. At all.**

**I feel like this chapter is kind of all over the place. BUT I UPDATED SUPER FAST. Are you proud of me?**

**Reader with the most hilarious name: Jebediah Sprinklefield. Just saying.**

* * *

Mr. Strife stumbled into the boy's room again. The air was stale and choking, especially to his alcohol-fogged senses.

"_Where are you hiding?_" he screamed into the room with all of the breath in his lungs. "_Where are you hiding from me, you fucking—_"

Mr. Strife stood, breathing heavily. In two strides he was at the desk, sweeping his large arms across the surface. Books and papers crashed to the ground. The lamp flew and hit the wall. The noise was deafening.

Such a sensation flew through his veins. He kicked the chair over and it splintered into pieces. He gripped the back of the desk, and with a terrible roar, overturned it.

(_teach him to fucking leave I am going to crush his skull I will hurt him so badly he will never think of stepping foot outside of this fucking house again_)

He was so drunk he didn't even notice the tears falling out of his eyes, and he didn't notice when his knees gave out until he hit the ground.

* * *

"Good morning, Cloud. How are you feeling today?" Sephiroth asked, taking his place next to the boy's bed.

Cloud's eyes were hooded. A deep ache had settled into his bones and he was even more exhausted than he had been the day before. "So tired," he whispered, and a burst of pain flared up in his throat. He turned toward the wastebasket. With every cough, his chest burned more, as if it had been set on fire.

When he was finally done, Sephiroth stood and checked the trash can. "It looks as though you're still infected. Do you mind another injection?"

Cloud shook his head, and the man fished around in his bag before producing a needle and a vial.

"You know, Cloud," Sephiroth began, injecting another dose of antibiotic into the flesh of the boy's wrist, "when I was a boy I lived in a Mako research lab."

The needle was out of Cloud's skin before he processed the words, thankfully, because his whole body jerked when he heard. The silver-haired man nodded.

"My father was the head scientist. I was bred to be an experiment."

"Oh, my God."

"That's right. He was a cruel, insane man." Sephiroth almost spat the words out.

Cloud shrunk back into the pillows, stunned and hurt. He knew that his condition had caused a lot of people to look down on him, even hate him. But he thought Sephiroth had understood and accepted him.

(_I'm not bad, really I'm not—I'm just—_)

"I apologize, Cloud," Sephiroth sighed, measuring his reaction with glowing green eyes. "That was extremely insensitive of me. _Hojo _was the very, very bad kind of crazy. You are not. You're… just scared."

Cloud's eyes widened. It was the first time anyone had ever analyzed his _feelings, _instead of his condition. And he was _right, _so right, and Cloud had never even stopped to think about it that way.

"What… happened?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Well, one day he _really _snapped. He wanted to experiment with an amount of Mako that would kill even me—and I have been living with Mako in my body my entire life. When one of his assistants protested, he struck her so hard that she fell and hit her head on a lab table. She slowly bled to death on the floor, and he ignored her.

"I resisted, and he attempted to inject me with force. So, I fought back. And I killed him."

Cloud was shocked silent.

"Once the police got wind of the things he had been doing, they totally absolved me of my crime. And I've been living my life the way I want to since then."

The teenager felt tears building up behind his eyes. After a second, he could no longer hold back, and he was curled up, bawling into his arms.

Sephiroth looked bewildered.

* * *

The night after Vincent's questioning, all three of them had been visited individually. Reno stood in Zack's living room, shaking slightly, lighting a cigarette. He only smoked when he couldn't stop shaking.

"Reno, what the hell? My parents are going to smell that. Put it out."

Reno grumbled and inhaled defiantly before stubbing it out on his shoe.

"_Fuck, _man," he said with some difficulty from his swollen mouth. "Stupid goddamn cops think they know everything. They've got no idea. Their beloved _Representative Strife_. Fuck that."

"C'mon, sit down, Reno. Let's watch the news to see what's up," Zack said, and Vincent nodded quietly. So he did, still muttering his anger.

"—while searching the city today, police have found traces of blood on the barbed wire fence surrounding the East Mako River. After testing, it has been identified as belonging to the missing teenager Cloud Strife. Police Chief Devin Walker had this to say: 'At this point, it really doesn't look good. If Strife somehow fell into the river, we might as well stop the investigation and hold his funeral.'"

The boys sat, dumbstruck, on the couch as the program moved seamlessly into the next story.

* * *

Spring break was over, and on the way to school, hordes of children walked through the large metal tunnels above the plates and stopped to stare toward the East Mako River. Men in biohazard suits stood within the fences, solemnly combing the river and searching the surrounding areas.

"I was at Costa del Sol all break, I didn't hear a thing—"

"That kid Cloud who moved here from Nibelheim—"

"I've seen his dad all over the news. Poor guy—"

"I knew he was weird, but _crazy?—_"

And Reno wanted all of them to shut their goddamn mouths.

During school, the principal made an announcement over the TV, and Reno wanted _him _to shut his goddamn mouth. He said so, and his teacher gave him a scandalized look.

He didn't get in trouble though, because the teacher sympathized. Cloud was his _friend,_ after all.

(_Stupid goddamn people_.)

* * *

"Hey, Sephiroth… Can I—Can I see a mirror?"

After a brief period of hesitation, the man placed a round mirror in his hands. The silvery glint reflected the window. Slowly, Cloud turned it toward himself.

He was emaciated. He had dark circles around his eyes, and his skin glistened with a layer of sweat. He was too pale, he could tell, under the flush of fever. His hair hung limp and matted on his forehead.

Cloud looked like crap. And he was beginning to be able to smell himself. And his father would kill him and his friends when he found out what had happened. The teenager was starting to think that Reno had made a huge mistake when he pulled him out of the river.

And then he looked into his own eyes. Once they were a normal sky-blue, but now, they shone almost neon-bright with a purplish tint.

"Now I'm really a freak," he grumbled, laying the mirror on the bedside table.

* * *

The mako had begun to course through Cloud's body again with a vengeance. He had been thrown into another comalike state, eyes half-open and body shaking and pouring sweat.

_And I killed him. And I killed him. And I killed him._

A young boy with silver hair shaved close to his head stood in a pool of blood with wide, green, glowing eyes, scared, scared, so scared, but free.

Vincent stood watch over him, twisting a wet towel in his hands before placing it on Cloud's head. Cloud made a whining noise in the back of his throat and shuddered violently.

Vincent sat on the edge of the bed, picking at a thread in his blood red sweater. It was unraveling. Just like… like _everything. _Like Reno, and Representative Strife, and Cloud, and everyone's lives, everything, everything, everything.

* * *

The little boy had begun to follow him around, speaking at his brain until his whole mind was forcefully packed with the words.

(DADDY STOP SCREAMING AT ME STOP HITTING ME _PLEASE_)

He had to stay home all week, because his assistants had caught him mumbling to himself (to this little boy). With cloying pity leaking out of their pores and choking him, they assured him that he should go home and take as much time as he needed. So he did. He had to.

(DADDY HELP ME _HELP ME_)

* * *

Reno's mother had just returned from work, and was stirring a big pot of sauce on the stove. The teen entered the room and sat at the counter, nervously examining his hands.

"Hello, Reno," she greeted him cheerfully, tapping the side of the pot with the spoon. The excess sauce flew back into the mix. "How was your day?"

"It was fine, Mom," he replied, his voice dry. He cleared his throat.

Silence filled the room for a few minutes, while Ms. Sinclair busied herself with dinner and Reno sat, squirming nervously.

"Sweetie, I'm sorry about Cloud."

He was taken aback. He sat and stared sadly at his mother, and she stared back, watching his reaction. After a moment, he blinked rapidly and put his head down.

"Mom, I… If something really bad was happening to somebody at home, would you want them to keep living there… or… would it be okay if they ran away?"

"I… I don't know, sweetheart. Whatever happens, I hope things get better for that person. But if they ran away, I bet they would be missed. Even the worst people have feelings, I suppose."

Reno's breath left his lungs and he had to hide the tears that sprang forward. "Oh, okay," he mumbled, then leapt to his feet and stalked out of the kitchen.

In his room, he sat against the wall and covered his face. Images of Cloud writhing on Sephiroth's bed, sporting injury after injury, and limping through the rain wouldn't leave his mind. After a few minutes, those images began to change into the countless news reports that featured the devastated face of Mr. Strife.

* * *

Cloud had gotten better remarkably quickly. The exhaustion was still in his bones, but his fever and infection had died down, and he was lucid. He'd talked with Zack for quite a while.

However, his mind was still suffering.

He was surrounded by millions and millions of crawling golden butterflies. The ceiling was covered in millions and millions of cocoons. Every so often, one would crack open and a wet butterfly would come out to dry, and a beautiful glow would gradually seep into its wings, and it would fly down to join the rest of them. They would crawl over him and he would sigh, too tired to cry but _wanting _to. The feel of them on his skin was horrifying.

So he closed his eyes and daydreamed.

"_Cloud," the psychiatrist said, leaning forward over her desk and folding her hands. "I believe you are developing a condition called schizophrenia. Of course, your case is extremely mild, and I don't think it will get much worse. Right now, you seem to be experiencing a lot of _positive_ symptoms, like your hallucinations, and a few _cognitive _symptoms—memory problems, your difficulty concentrating. However, you don't seem to be displaying any _negative_ symptoms. Now, would you please go play with Pam outside while I speak with your father?"_

_Ten-year-old Cloud blinked at her, face falling into a sad, confused expression, and slowly walked out of the room. His father would be so disappointed._

He moved effortlessly into a new dream.

"_Cloud has tested negative for brain tumors, thyroid dysfunction, any seizure disorders or metabolic disorders, and narcotic use. It's safe to say his problems are not physical."_

_They had drawn his blood and put it in a vial. He watched until he became dizzy._

* * *

Marie Landreth, formerly Marie Strife, formerly _formerly _Marie Taylor, was in Midgar with her new husband, Jack. Jack Landreth had a business meeting here, and had asked her to come. It would be romantic, he said, a weekend alone without the baby.

She had meant to come and have a good time with her husband. But she hadn't meant to turn on the television to the news and stumble backwards in time while Jack was in a meeting.

"There is still no news on the disappearance of Cloud Strife, son of Representative Robert Strife. The seventeen-year-old went missing just before Midgar Schools went on spring break. Police have found traces of his blood on the barbed fence surrounding East Mako River. Cloud has been diagnosed with schizophrenia—"

That was the point at which she could just take no more. She turned the TV off and lay back in the bed.

She could picture it now, standing on the street and waiting until Robert rounded the corner. When he glanced at her, she would disappear. When he did a double-take, she'd be gone.

Or, maybe she would let him find her, and they would meet for a cup of coffee and sit and talk while mourning silently to themselves, and for one hour she would allow her life to be totally broken.

But really, Marie knew that what she would _really _do was stay here with Jack for the weekend, and then leave like she never saw anything.

(_Schizophrenic.)_

She hadn't ever, ever _ever _felt guilty for leaving the boy.

But maybe now, with a husband she loved and a tiny baby girl (like she'd wanted since she was _so_ little), she'd gone soft.

* * *

Zack had come over again. He and Sephiroth had helped Cloud to walk. They'd walked him into the bathroom, and he sat in the bottom of the shower, too tired to move but savoring the feel of the hot, cleansing water.

And then they helped him out, and Zack noted that his hair was getting rather long.

"Your spikes aren't bouncing up anymore, Cloudy," he said, grinning.

So Sephiroth left the room and came back a minute later with a pair of scissors.

"Here, Cloud, I'll help you up."

He sat on the bed, legs dangling off the side, holding onto Zack's hands for support, as Sephiroth worked diligently with the scissors.

"Hey, Cloud, I wanted to ask you something. Think you could answer?"

The blonde boy nodded softly.

"What are some of the things you've been hallucinating?"

There was a brief moment of stillness.

"Sometimes… I see this man I don't know. And he…" Cloud hesitated, then continued on a different trail. "Most of the time… I see butterflies. Glowing butterflies. Sometimes just one, sometimes… So, so many. Sometimes big, sometimes tiny. I… I don't know why."

He sniffed.

Zack watched him sadly.

"What… what do you think you'll do when you're better?"

"I- I-" Cloud sputtered, blinking. "I don't know."

* * *

Walking down the street, Robert Strife saw the same silver-haired man that had interrupted him in the middle of strangling Cloud's bastard friend.

Luckily, he was going in the other direction, so Mr. Strife went unnoticed. He hid behind a tree to track his path.

He went into a big grey house.

If Zack knew where Cloud was, then this man certainly knew, as well. And of course Zack knew. He had been about to _find his son _and that annoying son-of-a-bitch had _tackled _him, for god's sake.

Mr. Strife waited a few minutes, then approached the big grey house. He stealthily checked every window.

Finally, he came upon a curtained window. He could barely see inside, but what he did see made the biggest grin spread across his face.

There was his son, lying weak in a large bed, eyes closed in a dream.

* * *

**Oh my god, now that that's done. Jesus. **

**What a development! I have a feeling I am going to get half-crazed reviews.** **Sorry, guys.**

**Review or I'll never speak to you again!**


	7. emancipatealtercate

**I still love you all! It appears that Chapter 8 will be the last. I originally thought it would be Chapter 7, but it appears no.**

**There might be a sequel. _Might._**

**Posted: something like 2:50 PM EST July 22, 2008**

* * *

"Hey, Cloud."

Cloud looked up with hazy eyes and smiled. "Hey, Reno."

Reno sat down next to the bed and played with the hem of his shirt.

"Sorry, Sephiroth… gave me something for the pain. I'm a little… weird."

The redhead laughed weakly.

There was a silence in which Cloud grew progressively sleepier and Reno sat and stared at his boots.

Finally, when Cloud was about to slip into sleep, his friend spoke up.

"Hey, man, I'm sorry about me being kind of a douche," he said quickly and quietly, not looking up from the white smudge of dirt on his shoelace.

The blonde blinked and inhaled deeply. "What? Oh…"

"I… I just couldn't take it, y'know? Like, I could help you when you weren't…"

Cloud could hear the _crazy _that Reno wanted to attach to the end.

"Whatever."

"Cloud, Cloud, I'm sorry. I'm an asshole, I know. I'm a huge asshole."

"_Whatever, _Reno."

"I just… was… _scared. _I wanted to protect you from your dad, but I was… I was scared. I wanted it to be… like it used to be. When you were alright."

Cloud sighed. "I know." He smiled weakly. "I have no idea what I'm going to do when this is over."

Suddenly excited, Reno moved from the chair to the foot of the bed. "Y'know, I've been thinking about that. I was thinking, fuck, you can't go back to that. You gotta try to get emancipated. Yeah! If you tell someone, someone important, you can get the hell out of there. You _need _to."

Cloud smiled again, sadly, and nodded. "Yeah. I will."

* * *

Cloud was sleeping when Sephiroth came in. The man checked his temperature, which he was very pleased with, and used a wet washcloth to wipe the sweat off of his face. He strolled to the other end of the room to put the thermometer away.

Then he heard a very soft, very out-of-place noise. His green eyes flicked to the window.

Robert Strife was staring in through the curtains at Cloud's sleeping form.

Sephiroth didn't move. If Mr. Strife tilted his head this way, he wouldn't be able to see him for the curtains.

After a few minutes, the man at the window disappeared.

* * *

"Shit, shit, _shit shit shit shit—_"

"Zack, are you alright?" Vincent asked incredulously.

"_Fuck, _no, I'm not alright. _He found Cloud_."

Reno was on his feet in an instant, shoving Zack against the wall. "What the fuck do you mean?"

"He hasn't done anything, but Sephiroth saw him watching Cloud through the window. We—we have to get him out of there, we _have _to."

The three boys looked at each other, wearing the same expression of fear.

"Alright," Vincent said, steeling his resolve. "I'm in."

Reno cracked a huge grin. "_Hell _yeah."

"We need to leave tonight," said Vincent soberly.

So they sat down and planned their escape.

* * *

"_Cloud, you deserve it, you know_. _Every single thing he's done to you_."

Cloud squirmed uncomfortably as Sephiroth helped him dress in Zack's white tank and crisp, dark blue button-up shirt, and a pair of jeans from Reno (Zack was closest to him in build, and the redhead was the closest to Cloud's meager height, but the jeans still hung a little too far over his bare feet).

"_You _are _worthless after all, and you have been so horrible_. _Horrible, horrible, horrible_. _No one could ever love you but him anyway_."

Cloud squeezed his eyes shut, zipping the fly of his new jeans with one hand and pushing the canal of his ear closed with the other.

"Are you alright, Cloud?"

The boy didn't know that Sephiroth had spoken for a moment, so intent on tuning out the voices.

"Oh. Huh?"

"Are you alri—?"

"_Nonononononono, Cloud, you are not alright, you'll never ever be alright because you're pathetic and weak and worthless and no one cares about you—"_

"Cloud?"

"Y-yeah."

Sephiroth knelt down, and Cloud slid off of the bed and onto his back. Holding the older man's neck loosely, he rested his head and closed his eyes.

"_You cannot keep running away forever, you cannot you cannot. He's going to find you again."_

(_Shut up_.)

Zack eyed Cloud with concern. "Okay, let's go."

Outside, Vincent and Reno were waiting in Vincent's car.

"_He's going to hurt you. And you know you deserve it. Everything you get you brought on yourself."_

(_Shut up_.)

"_Because you are worthless, you are spineless, and the only reason these people are helping you is because they don't know you yet. No one knows you but your father."_

"Shut _up_," Cloud hissed miserably. Sephiroth threw him a glance over his shoulder. He shrunk back, embarrassed.

"_Why are you running?_"

"Where are we—?"

"_Don't you know it's hopeless?_"

"We'll take him—"

"_The only way out is to do it yourself."_

Cloud let out a cry of pain and buried his face into Sephiroth's broad back.

"Whoa, Cloud, you alright?"

"_No. You're _sick, _aren't you?_"

"Shut _up, _shut up…"

"What?"

"Not _you, _Zack," said Vincent's quiet voice.

Tears began to stream out of Cloud's eyes.

"_He's going to kill every single one of them. And it'll be your fault._"

None of them noticed the shadowy figure ambling toward them down the sidewalk. At midnight, they didn't feel the need to watch for anyone.

Cloud turned his head as his friends engaged in a hushed conversation, trying to distract himself, and found himself staring at the face of his father, just ten feet away.

The blank look on his face hardly changed. He opened his mouth, thinking that he might say something, but nothing came.

They just stared at each other for a moment. Mr. Strife grinned smugly.

Reno turned in the driver's seat and went pale.

"Shit!"

At that moment, Mr. Strife lunged and knocked the surprised teenager off of Sephiroth's back. Cloud's head slammed against the pavement and he groaned loudly.

Sephiroth grabbed the back of the man's jacket and lifted him off just as Reno was rounding the hood of the car, looking ready to kill. He pushed up his sleeves and delivered a hard blow to Mr. Strife's grinning face.

Vincent was suddenly at Cloud's side, lifting him up and helping him into the car. In moments, his father had been cast off to the side, holding his face and laughing, and everyone else was packed into the vehicle.

They peeled off into the night.

* * *

They had been driving for an hour past a million beautiful butterflies. They lit up the night like a sky full of stars, fluttering around in the air.

Cloud watched silently, his face stretched into an awed smile. At one point, Zack opened the window to let in cool air and let in a butterfly as well. It lit on the blonde's hand for a moment, then left.

He watched them outside, casting their golden glow on the world, until his eyes became too heavy and he fell asleep stretched across Sephiroth and Zack.

* * *

"He hasn't ratted us out, yet," Reno said in a quietly puzzled voice.

The news anchor was informing all of Metro-Midgar about the disappearance of Zachary Fair, Vincent Valentine, and Reno Sinclair, the closest of Cloud's many, _many _school friends.

They showed footage of a reporter interviewing Reno's mother, Vincent's aunt Lyla, and Zack's parents. When Lyla Valentine began to speak in a soft, worried voice, her nephew turned ashen and went into the other room.

They had stopped in Edge, a city just outside of Midgar, and rented two hotel rooms for the day, planning to leave that night. Cloud was sleeping still, exhausted from the night's activities. Sephiroth had woken him up a little while after he fell asleep in the car and made sure he didn't have a concussion, but the boy had been sleeping soundly ever since.

Suddenly, he shuddered violently and his eyes snapped open.

"Cloud?" Zack asked softly, shifting to look at him.

"Sorry. Bad dream," he responded tiredly, closing his eyes again.

"What was it about?" Reno asked in his quiet, gravelly tone.

"I was in my house, and my… my dad was there, yelling at something that _wasn't_ there. Then the room started flooding and… I was drowning."

The phone rang. Casually, forgetting where they were, Reno picked it up.

"Hello?"

"May I please speak to Cloud?" The voice had the most menacing tenor he hoped to ever hear.

Quickly, Reno slammed the phone back onto the receiver and crossed into the other room through the joining door.

"He's here, he knows what room Cloud is in. We have to _go_."

Sephiroth scowled. "If he's here, there is very little chance of us getting out without an altercation."

"So we altercate! That bastard can't lay hands on him again. You haven't seen—" Reno stopped short, pressing his hand to his forehead.

There was a knock on the door of Cloud's room. Zack poked his ashen face in.

Vincent, Sephiroth, and Reno stalked into the room. Vincent threw open the door.

"Well, hello."

Behind them, Cloud stiffened at the very real sound of his father's voice.

"_There he is. He's going to take you away, he's going to hurt you._"

The nameless man stood next to the bed.

"_But that's nothing compared to what he'll do to them. They took you away from him. They all deserve it, just like you, just like you._"

"It's okay," Cloud said gently, and Reno turned around to gape at him. "It's… I can go back."

(_Please don't hurt them it's my fault I'll go just don't hurt them_)

"_No, _Cloud! You can't!"

"Reno, it's fine. It's better if I just go back."

Mr. Strife broke into a low series of malicious chuckles. "I knew it," he hissed. "You see? You see how dependent on me he is? I'm the most important thing he knows."

Cloud closed his eyes as his father stomped into the room and hauled him off the bed by his upper arm.

"I won't turn you in," he said unexpectedly. "You can all pretend you just went on a road trip without permission. Teenagers do that from time to time, don't they? But I will never, _never _stop _this_." He shook Cloud to clarify his point, grinning widely. "I think that's enough punishment for all of you."

"Cloud, listen to me," Reno said suddenly, looking into his friend's glowing eyes. "You _don't have to live like this. _You don't."

The blonde stared back, looking so small and scared, and nodded imperceptibly.

(_But… I think I do._)

* * *

**Review!**


	8. youdontyoudont

**I decided I was going to be extremely evil and update with this. **

**Posted: 9:16ish EST July 24, 2008**

* * *

When Cloud and his father got home that night, the first thing the elder man did was go into the bathroom, retrieve the powdery, white pills, and dump them into the toilet. His son watched, resigned, feeling dread build up inside of him.

But, for some unexplained reason, there was no violence. There was nothing at all but an occasional harsh comment.

Cloud went through his days waiting, waiting until he was sick with anticipation. He didn't notice his strength returning to him, too busy walking on eggshells and holding back vomit. He couldn't decipher his constantly racing thoughts. A swarm of butterflies surrounded him at all times, diminishing in size as, one by one, they burnt out and died.

Every so often, reporters and journalists would come pounding on the door. He hid in his bed, under a massive pile of blankets, until they gave up and left.

On his fourth day back, when the skies opened and let out a torrential storm, when he felt like he couldn't stand it anymore, his father came home with a familiar look on his face.

Mr. Strife strode across the room, seething, and backhanded him across the face.

Cloud fell to the floor, relieved and miserable all at once.

He watched the one remaining butterfly as his father kicked him repeatedly and threw him into the wall.

Suddenly, though, he was alone. The room was dark, devoid of any living creature but himself.

The kitchen door flew open and Mr. Strife stormed back into the room with a long, serrated knife in his hand.

Terrified, Cloud heaved himself to his feet and began to run. A heavy weight slammed into his back and he fell, feeling his skin scrape on the carpet.

(_no no nonononononono where _is _it I can't do this please please get me out of here_)

Pain erupted in his left hand. He screamed, and black spots were dancing in front of his eyes.

He could still see the knife pinning his hand to the carpet, buried to the handle in floor, muscle, and bone.

(_I'm going to die here I'm going to die I can't I can't I can't do this _please)

As his father left the room again, he writhed on the floor, sobbing.

Reno's voice was screaming in his ears.

(CLOUD LISTEN TO ME YOU _DON'T HAVE TO LIVE LIKE THIS_ YOU DON'T)

(_Yes I do I do do do do do_)

Mr. Strife was back, pulling Cloud's shirt up his back until the whole toned plain was revealed.

"You have never been _anything, _anything anything," he growled, digging a new knife into the skin. Cloud could tell that some word was being carved into his flesh.

He wanted to pass out so badly. He wanted to lose any knowledge of this pain.

(YOU DON'T)

(_BUT I DO, I DO_)

Mr. Strife had picked himself up and was turning away with the bloodied knife, apparently finished with this round of abuse.

Cloud stared at the blade embedded in his hand.

(You _don't have to live like this_.)

(_but--)_

(You don't.)

Squeezing his eyes shut, Cloud gripped the knife with his good hand and pulled. It came out with five good tugs. The teenager was practically hyperventilating, bawling his eyes out, but he shoved the pain aside.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet, facing his father, roaring, lunging.

Surprised, Mr. Strife turned around.

Cloud drove the knife, stained with his own blood, into the heart of the man who had made his life hell.

(_and I killed him_.)

* * *

**You CANNOT tell me you didn't see this coming!**

**It's okay if you didn't actually. I never see anything coming.**

**There WILL be another chapter. Don't freak out.**

**Review, pleasepleaseplease.**


	9. free

****

Last chapter. I love love lovelovelove all of my readers. Thank you guys for putting up with my crazy writing, and those periods of time when I let this story grow stagnant. I am proud of myself for producing nine awesome chapters, and gaining fans. Thank you!

**Posted: I dunno, like 3:47 PM EST July 25, 2008**

* * *

"Vincent, I—I—"

"Cloud? What happened? Are you alright?"

Static and wails and gasps came to Vincent through the receiver.

"Cloud!"

"Vincent, please—"

"I'm coming over, alright? Just stay there, I'll be over in two minutes."

Vincent entered the kitchen and kissed his aunt on the cheek. "I need to go," he pleaded quietly. "A friend of mine is in trouble."

She nodded warily, not having recovered fully from her nephew's recent indiscretion. "Don't be gone too long."

"Thank you, Lyla."

He grabbed a black umbrella on his way out into the storm.

_God, _he wanted Cloud to be okay.

* * *

As soon as he walked into the Strife household, he was fumbling in his pocket for his cell phone, desperately trying to dial 911 through his panic. There was blood all over the floor.

"Cloud?" he called.

He took soft steps further into the room. Behind the couch was—

(_Oh, dear Jesus_.)

—a body.

"_Cloud_!" he yelled, stepping past the rigid frame of the older Strife.

He relayed the address to the 911 operator and told them to please send an ambulance.

"Cloud, where are you?"

He went into the missing boy's bedroom. There was a shattered lamp on the ground, a splintered chair, a broken desk, millions of papers.

Vincent strode further into the room, and found his friend huddled against his bed, covered in blood, nursing his left hand. Cuts marred his pale face. He looked barely conscious.

Vincent touched his shoulder warily, and he slumped forward, finally slipping into oblivion.

The word "WORTHLESS" was carved so deeply into Cloud's flesh that there was no doubt that it would leave thick, raised lines of scars. Any time he took off his shirt for the rest of his life, the whole world would see what someone had once thought of him. They would see what his life was once like.

Vincent was going to be sick.

* * *

Cloud's entire torso was wrapped in white bandages, and he had been laid on his stomach, baring the gauze that had been stained red. Lumps were visible where the stitches spelled _worthless_. His hand was bound in a similar way, held up on a sling to avoid movement. His eyes were closed in a turbulent sleep.

"_Shit,_" Reno breathed, running a hand through his bright red hair.

"Yeah. Kid does _not _get a break, does he?" Zack murmured sadly.

Sephiroth stood still, hand on his chin, watching the injured teenager with stony eyes.

(_And I killed him_.)

* * *

His throat was closing, and he couldn't breathe, and there was a choking sound emanating from him.

Somehow, still, the ironcoppersalt scent of blood managed to enter his nostrils and take over his senses.

He had been standing there for who knows how long, and his father's prone form _still did not move_.

Thick rivulets of blood were dripping onto the carpet from his hand and sliding down his back and legs.

(_no _no_ how did this happen_)

The image of the little silver-haired boy in the pool of blood, staring down at the dead body of his own father, swam quite suddenly in his mind. He laughed, shocked and horrified. This was _exactly the same_.

(_free_)

* * *

Cloud woke up suddenly, the word still echoing in his psyche. He squirmed uncomfortably and fire lit up in his back and his arm.

"Ah, Cloud, I see that you're awake."

He didn't recognize the voice. He turned his head, searching with bright eyes for the speaker.

A doctor stood at the foot of his bed, holding a clipboard and smiling. She walked around so that he could see her without straining his neck—he didn't need another injury to add to the list.

"You came in with some pretty severe injuries," she said, tucking a pencil behind her ear. It kept a lock of her light-red hair from falling in front of her eyes. "You are going to have very limited mobility in your left hand. Once the wound heals a little bit, we're going to put your arm in a cast. The knife severed muscle _and_ bone. And… we, um, we stitched up your back, but it will scar. The—incisions—were so deep that we expect the scars will never heal."

"What does it say?" he asked quietly, watching her face carefully. It drooped, and she would not look at him.

She was saved by the entrance of Zack and Reno. She smiled sheepishly and left the room.

"What was that all about?"

Cloud swallowed his heart. "I asked her what it says on my back."

"Oh. Shit."

Reno sighed. "It says _worthless_. And it's going to scar, and those scars are gonna be there for fucking _ever_."

There was a long silence.

Cloud's eyes began to burn, and hot tears slid out of them and over his nose and down the side of his face. After a moment, he inhaled, and used his good hand to wipe the moisture away.

"Reno?"

"Yeah?"

"I just… wanted to say thank you."

* * *

The doctors had given Cloud medication. He had nearly cried in relief.

The butterfly had returned, huge, monstrous, staggering under its own weight across the floor. But when he took the pills into his mouth and swallowed them, it gradually began to shrink.

Minutes later, it benignly fluttered out of the room.

* * *

Cloud was dressed up in a nice suit. The flesh of his back was raw and pink and sore, but it wouldn't open again. His left arm was kept still in a white cast. He couldn't move his fingers.

He had a lawyer. His name was Martin Cooper.

They were currently walking past crowds of reporters and onlookers toward the courthouse.

Martin assured him that there was no way they could convict him of anything. He had taken pictures of Cloud's back and hand to present as evidence, and he had former psychiatrists that could talk about his condition and two current psychiatrists that had mostly focused on the effects of his abuse lined up to testify.

Cloud kept his head down. People were _shouting _things at him.

He looked up, suddenly aware of a pair of steely eyes burning into his head.

The nameless man stood among the crowd, watching him with hate twisting his features.

Quickly, Cloud ducked his head again. He hadn't hallucinated since he had been started on medication again in the hospital.

When he and Martin Cooper passed the nameless man, his arm shot out and gripped the teenager's elbow.

Panic flooded him as he tried to pull himself free.

"My name is Caine Barlett," the man spat viciously. "Your father was a good friend of mine. I hope you pay."

Martin intervened then, his face a mask of controlled fury. "Come on, Cloud, let's get inside."

Cloud tried hard to control his breathing as they entered the courthouse, but he still blacked out, sitting on a bench against the wall, confused and terrified and lost.

* * *

The trial had gone as Martin Cooper had expected, more or less. The court had ordered him to visit a psychiatrist once a week and take his medication every day, as directed. Reno's mother had volunteered to take him in.

About a week after Cloud had moved in with the Sinclairs, a knock sounded on the door. Reno was asleep and his mother was at work. He answered the door, a little warily.

A blonde, middle-aged woman stood on the porch, cradling a baby girl in her arms.

"Cloud, I'm your mother," she said bluntly.

He stared at her. He had known the instant he saw her who she was.

"May I come in?"

"I don't… I don't know…"

So they sat on the porch.

"I didn't come here to beg you to let me come back. I'm happy with where I am. But, I do want to tell you this: I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run out on my responsibilities, and I left you in a very bad situation. I'm sorry that it came to this."

He sat silently, contemplating her words.

"Who's that?"

"Oh," she murmured, looking down at the curious face of her baby. "This is Iris. She's my daughter. Your half-sister."

The baby's wide blue eyes caught his, and she giggled, reaching out a chubby hand for him. Hesitantly, he held out his good hand, and she latched into his index finger.

"She's beautiful."

"Yes."

Marie stood. "I have to go now. Goodbye, Cloud. I don't know if we'll see each other again."

He nodded. "Goodbye."

* * *

Cloud had taken to sketching in his spare time. He sketched the nameless man (_Caine Barlett_), with his wide, demented grin. He drew his father's martyr mask, standing over him with a knife, and Zack's buoyant smile, and Vincent and Reno playing cards, and Ms. Sinclair making dinner, and child-Sephiroth with his shaved head.

At first, he was terrible at it, but over time, he had become quite good.

It had been months since he had last seen a glowing butterfly, but the image of them was burned into his mind.

"Hey, man, what are you drawing now?" Zack asked him, leaning over his shoulder.

On the paper, Cloud lie in a charcoal darkness, staring in awe at the hundreds of luminescent wings above him.


End file.
